Time Well Wasted in Underworld
by SavorySchmaltz
Summary: Solomon was used to hanging around underworld, in fact he preferred it. Though after an accident on his most recent visit the lone wanderer might become more of a permanent resident. Whilst his body heals he may just discover that some of his new neighbors might be able to help heal his soul as well. Full summary inside.
1. The Fire

Solomon was used to hanging around underworld, in fact he preferred it. He found himself at home with the ghouls that tried to carve out their own way of life in the wasteland. Though after an accident on his most recent visit the lone wonderer might become more of a permanent resident. Whilst his body heals he may just discover that some of his new neighbors might be able to help heal his soul as well.

Ahead of time I just want to thank everyone that takes the time to read this. Been out of practice when it comes to writing for quite a while. So this is a way of me getting back into it. Again thank you and hope that I interested you to keep reading. I own no characters, locations or images created any Bethesda or of Bethesda Software. I'm just a huge fan.

* * *

If you asked him what he was doing amongst the long closed museums and decaying monuments the former vault dweller probably wouldn't give you a straight answer. He would most like scratch the back of his neck whist his emerald eyes drifted down to the floor, and if it wasn't for his darker complexion you would be able to catch a feint hue of pink grace his cheeks.

Though if you were to ask him the same question whilst under fire from the hulking guards that roamed the area, well his response would be decidedly different.

"CRAP CRAP CRAP CRAP!" The muffled voice began to fog the visor of gas mask as unseen bullets zipped past the fleeing figure.

Streams of gold flashes were all the lone wanderer had to recognize where not to step. Solomon knew that each one had at least five bullets taking up the invisible intervals, and each one that didn't hit its mark imbedded into the building frames behind the lone wanderer. Raucous laughter of the gun totting mutant boomed as another hail of minigun fire showered around his body, lucky shells tore at the armored vault suit and cut at the wander's mocha skin.

"Stupid Human!" The creature roared as it continued its barrage, laughter mingled with the raining shells.

The weight of Solomon's own minigun didn't necessarily help the situation, and with each step through D.C's Mall district only seemed to become a heavier burden. A moment was all he needed, Underworld was in sight and he only needed a few more yards. His jog slowed to a limp as his left shin was clipped by a ricochet, but by his own count now was his moment. As he planted his unharmed leg and swung his weapon an all too familiar clicking sound came from his opponent's direction.

"Gun Dry! Need Stupid Bullets for Stupid HUMAN!" Before the super mutant even begin to reload a new barrage filled the air with metal, this time directed towards the green oppressor.

Hot shells fell around Solomon's boots and the fire flew the chilling wasteland air. The wanderer could feel his nostrils flair and his pupils focus on the ultra-violence that took place before him. Each of his bullets found their mark, several destroyed the upturned concrete that surrounded the target. Others perforated the steel girders that bent at strange angles out of the ground, and a couple shattered the metal that held together the mutant's weapon. The ones lucky enough to tear apart the actual enemy were the most beautiful in Solomon's eyes.

"Eat it ugly!" Gore had of pulling it out of him, the pieces of him that he kept away from those around him. If only for their own good. Laughter filled the air again, but this time it bellowed from deep inside the wanderer and it only grew in volume.

Even when his own chain of shells ran dry Solomon's finger still held the trigger as if he were to release the world would end all over again. Though as the bloodied heap slumped to the ground before him the bloodlust cooled and Solomon found himself able to blink once again. His white knuckled trigger finger cracked as he let up the pressure which allowed the hot barrels to stop their twirling and suddenly everything seemed heavy. The air he took in made his lungs dense and he felt gravity pull the blood from his wounds and pull it down to pool at his feet. His head was too heavy to turn so he strained his eyes to see the edges of his peripheral.

Right where she always held her guard at the entrance of Underworld, Willow caught his eye like a melted Valkyrie. She, Solomon noticed, wasn't her stoic self with her arms waving the way they were. His full attention went to her as he readjusted the minigun's weight on hip and started to limp his way over to the woman. There must have been a bit of adrenaline still lodged in his ear, or maybe the gas mask muffled her already gruff voice because he couldn't quite hear what she was yelling to him. Then she was doing something different, she was pointing. He didn't have to follow the line of her finger to know what she was motioning toward.

His hearing cleared in time to hear the pin being pulled from the grenade, but his eyes never left the guardswoman in front of him. Her laser rifle manifested itself into her hands and he saw her fire maybe two rounds. Solomon's mind was moving too fast to comprehend what he had to do. It took him to other instances of emptying clips of rifles at other super mutants and only slow them down. Then it whisked him to memories of semi cool beer at the ninth circle, the ghouls at the bar laughing at his jokes. For some reason there was a flash of Moira Brown's smiling face, what was that about?

Burning flesh filled his nose as the grenade hit the heel of his right boot, and Solomon no longer thought anything. He just reacted. The minigun went first, he dropped it right on top of the grenade in an effort to stem the coming explosion. At the same time his eyes finally shot a glance at what was left of the super mutant that lobbed the explosive turn to ash thanks to Willow's assistance. Then the world was fire and screams as molten metal rained on the retreating vault dweller.


	2. Bedridden Daddy Issues

I wanted to thank Dinodude7 and sen whitefox mako red demon for the early favorite for chapter one, and to Dinodude7 again as well as Montigo66 for the follow. Hope I hold your interest.

* * *

The screams died almost as soon as they began, but the pain replaced it shortly after they faded. Though, something else entirely troubled Solomon as his eyes fluttered open. He was staring at his dead father. Stranger still was that he was a lot less dead than he remembered. James freaking Bello took in his only son's emerald eyes with his matching green gaze and a smile took his middle aged face.

Pain shot through the entirety of Solomon's being, a quick flare of agony that originated from his spine. It made his eyes water and shut tight, and even though the screams were gone the fire was there behind his eyelids. It flashed, as quick as the pain. His teeth clenched together to keep from calling out or biting his tongue, a practiced ritual he acquired from when he would have to patch himself up out in the wastes.

When he reopened his eyes a familiar pane of plexiglass separated their faces. His father's smile held as he turned away to reveal Augustus Autumn with a wicked smile of his own. A single gunshot echoed through the chamber which brought on the fire and pain once more, this time a bit to the left of the last flare. As Solomon returned to scene that played out in front of him he knew he had to change the course of events. Bawled fists slammed on the glass, but no sound emanated from the impacts. The enclave soldiers paid him no mind, his father's assistant was still shot dead.

"I grow tired of waiting…" Augustus threatened with his voice so stern.

"It will only be a moment longer." James tried to stall for more precious time.

Solomon was screaming now, though his cries ware just as mute as his blows on the unyielding plastic. The soldiers, along with Autumn, kept their focus on his father as if he wasn't even there. The explosion James caused sent the largest string of pain yet through the younger Bello. One that sent him to his knees and opened the floodgate of his welling tears. Only when Solomon's father came crawling to the other side of the glass could the wanderer hear himself speak.

"Dad?" Solomon's voice caught in his throat unable to say any more.

The colors were wrong, from what he remembered, the crimson was too much. Blood poured out of his father's mouth, then it cascaded from his eyes as well. It gurgled out of the now long dead assistant's gunshot wound. Pools of blood joined with what flowed out from under the enclave soldier's helmets. The sight sickened him, while at the same time made his mouth water with need.

"Run…Run!" His father's last words, the ones that were branded in his brain, came with another surge of red liquid. More pain and more blood filled Solomon's vision, it even began to fill the waters in the tanks surrounding the chamber.

"Daddy!" Solomon screamed in a voice that belonged to a much younger and more fragile version of his own.

The pain became even more searing as the visions shrank away and reality swelled around him. It surged to Solomon like a room rapidly being submerged in a flood whilst he himself was chained to the heaviest chair in it. His head swooned as he tried to come up for air, but the waking world had him. As did the pain. It turned the contents of his stomach sour and it took all the muscles in his throat to keep down the dry sugar bombs he had that morning….or was it yesterday morning?

Solomon finally opened his still heavy eyelids as he swallowed the threatening bile to see he was face down on what looked like a broken down medical cot. A quick attempt to push off the surface was met with the pain that erupted from the entirety of his back. He took in the surrounding air through clenched teeth and flared nostrils to try and ease the sting, but the familiar smell of Doctor Barrow's Chop Shop had the former vault dweller fighting his stomach once more. His struggle must have been loud enough to attract some attention because just when he thought he could not keep the surging vomit at bay, a dented bucket quickly came into view beside the cot. A warm hand graced his back and Nurse Grave's distinctive gravel filled voice whispered into his ear.

"Let go, just let it go."

It was all Solomon needed to hear.

To his own surprise there seemed to be nothing but fluids that exited his body. It reminded him of when he was bedridden from the flu whilst he was a child in the vault. His father had him attached to something he called an I.V since he couldn't keep any food down. Because of this, Solomon knew he hadn't eaten for quite some time and his nutrients were being taken in through his blood.

"There you go, just let it out." Strangely enough Grave's bedside manner did calm Solomon's agitated nerve endings and it seemed his stomach followed suit.

"Take it easy Sol, don't want to open those stitches on your back." The patient turned his head just in time to see his caretaker flash a grin before she turned to saunter back to her terminal.

"You humans…so fragile, but you Sol, you can do anything." A new, slightly sarcastic, voice came up outside of Solomon's vision. It belonged to Barrows himself.

"Don't try to sit up…" His hand pressed almost exactly where Grave's had, but his was much more forceful. It pressed Solomon down and in his weakened state kept him there.

"You'll only hurt yourself more." The good doctor said flatly as he felt the fight leave his patient and released his hold. With now labored breath the lone wander felt his body become weaker from exhaustion but managed to survey the familiar room. His head pivoted to glance at the now vacant bed in the corner that once held a very catatonic Reilly. Solomon imagined her drinking it up with her ranger crew back at their base of operations after some successful mission, and the thought made him smirk.

"Hope you don't mind, I took some skin samples from your wounds for my research. Consider it a discount on your treatment." Barrows had moved to the long reinforced window that ran the length of his clinic. On the other side looking in were two glowing faces that tilted from one angel to the other as they took in the interesting scene outside their cell. So well behaved were Meat and Ethyl, even in their feral state.

"Took the liberty of adding all the scrap metal I pulled from your back to the collection you already had going. Never thought a minion could explode like that." Without looking back the doctor's hand motioned to under the cot where a neat pile of Solomon's belongings rested. A muted chuckle that escaped his lips before he continued.

"You can thank Tulip for the up keep of your crap." Solomon heard but didn't really listen to the words, for Nurse Graves held his attention. No, not her. It was in front of her. She was squatted in front of the now open mini fridge and inside...it brought him back to the crimson. The chilled plastic packages filled with blood taunted him. They made his mouth water with sickness and again he turned to the bucket for relief.

* * *

The dry heaving must have taken the rest of the strength he had left because when Solomon found himself back in the real world the clinics lights were dimmed. Barrows or Graves must have cleaned the bucket for it was empty once more on the floor by his head. With eyelids just as heavy as before Solomon looked to see the doctor and his nurse had retired to their respective beds. Feeling brave the vault dweller once again planted his weak hands below him and with wobbly arms attempted to push himself off his stomach.

"Doc said…" The young, smooth voice slurred from somewhere in the dark.

"Told me to tell you…don't…don't do that." It came from the head of Solomon's cot, and he shifted his head so his eyes could adjust to the darkened light.

"Good to see treasure hunting hasn't killed you yet." Sydney's voice sobered slightly as she took a swig of the beer in her hand, finished it and added it to the two others under the nurse's desk where she sat.

"Doc wouldn't wake you up so I told him…I told him…I would wait to see you." A sloppy smile stretched across her face and Solomon found his lips matched her expression.

"Would ask you if you want any ammo, but it looks to me that you'll be staying put…" Her lips suddenly snapped shut and her cheeks bulged as she held up her index finger towards her wounded friend. Then just as suddenly she turned her head away and let out a belch of decent proportions for the young lady's size. It brought out a grumble for the doctor as he shifted in his bed, but didn't get up. Solomon stifled a giggle and brought his own index finger to his lips like a mock librarian. To which Sydney only mimicked with a sour express on her face.

"For a while." She finished her thought in a whisper.

"Hey…you been trying to out drink patchwork again?" Solomon matched her whisper and was surprised at the sound of his own voice. He must have not used it for a while for it sounded more like the various ghouls that inhabited Underworld than with what he was familiar with. Of course, it didn't seem to bother his present company. Probably since she had been living with the ghouls for quite some time now. She held her sour expression, but added a passionate gesture of her middle finger and extended her tongue in his direction.

"Hey don't be like that, especially when I went and got something for you." Her face changed as she crept closer to Solomon. She moved in so close that he thought she would most certainly have rummaged through his belongings herself. Instead she halted at arm's reach from his bed and crossed her legs below her before she platted her bottom on the ground. Her arms crossed over her chest and she attempted to feign disinterest.

"What is it? Another broken shotgun? I ain't giving you any more caps for any more…junk." A slight hiccup interrupted her façade and again brought a smile to Solomon's face. Of course, his obvious amusement only fueled her fire.

"You know everyone tells me how much of a saint you are…even that guy on the radio can't shut up about it…" He let her ramble on and she let him shift his weight until he painfully hung his torso over the edge of the bed to search though his stuff that was still neatly laid out for him under the cot.

"You held that stupid declaration hostage and lead me all over creation before we even looked in the direction of Rivet City!" It didn't take long for him to find the audio tape, since all the ones he owned were stacked neatly in one pile.

"…And you're lucky we didn't run into my pal Emaline out there, she would have put a hurting on you." Solomon hefted his upper body, belly down, back onto the cot with another sharp intake of breath, but Sydney failed to notice as she continued to unload her drunken frustration.

"Well I wouldn't let her hurt you too bad since you were plenty generous with your stimpaks…" She paused in thought for a moment before she continued.

"…And she might have burned the Declaration with her flamer. Come to think of it you did give me my fair share of caps when we did make it back…and there was a little extra in that pot as well." Solomon knew she wouldn't respond to him if he presented the note to her so he loaded it into his pip boy whilst her rant became a frustrated mumble.

"Thought you were trying to bribe me to sleep with you, but you didn't once make a move…"

"My dearest Little Moonbeam. I know you've been waiting to hear what happened to me." The pained voice on the tape cut her off immediately.

"I'm sorry I left you like I did. An important deal came up... one that might have let us get away from that shack we were living in. I came to the Statesman Hotel to meet the buyer and the deal went bad. We shot each other, and now I think I'm dying."

"Daddy?" Her voice sounded like a version much younger and more fragile than her own.

"I won't make it out of this place... the ruins are crawling with super mutants. All I can do is record this and then hide up in one of the rooms. You're a strong girl and I know you can use everything I taught you to survive alone. Please forgive me, sweetie. I only wanted to make the best for us. Daddy loves you very much. Goodbye." As the tape stopped Solomon calmly ejected it and looked up to present it to his friend, but she wasn't looking at him.

Her hands were balled into weak fists whose knuckles ground slightly into the thighs of her still crossed legs. Dark chocolate hair hid her expression since she was looking to the floor. A few droplets of tears on the cracked, dirty tile gave Solomon a hint of where her mind was.

"He…he didn't abandon me? That's his voice I can tell…" A sniffle from her nose brought her face to face with Solomon again and he noted her mixed expression of sorrow and relief.

"He was just trying to help us, to help me. I can't believe you found this…Here!" Her eyes lit up now as she swiftly grasped the tape and turned with surprising sobriety to upholster the weapon that never left her side.

"I want you to have this! It's the most precious thing I have." She carefully laid her custom sub machine gun in view under the cot as she quickly stood.

"I can't thank you enough!" She moved to leave then turned to plant a quick peck on his cheek that wasn't on the dirty bedding. Then she was gone, leaving the door of the clinic to close on its own accord. The cool air quickly stole the warm that had been bestowed upon his face, but it renewed itself when he heard a familiar chuckle from the corner of the room.

"Smooth kid…" His neck pivoted quickly to so he could see both the doctor and his nurse sitting up in their respected beds. The dark hid their expressions, but by the tone of Barrow's voice Solomon could only guess that they were amused.

"Now if it's alright with you, can we get some sleep please?" The doctor didn't wait for an answer as he rolled back into a comfortable position. Graves emitted a small fit of giggles before following suit.

As his head rested in a more comfortable position he eyes caught a very interested Ethyl had come up to glass of her cell once again. He could tell the two glowing ferals apart since she was the shorter of the couple and her chin barely came up to the bottom of the glass with her permanently hunched posture. Both her radiated hands had their palms flat on the transparent surface. And she was staring directly at Solomon with her trademark passive expression. To which Solomon took a page out of Sydney's book and extended his tongue towards the feral before he moved his head so he faced the wall and closed his eyes to return to his crimson dreams.

* * *

Thanks again all those that read this and an even bigger thanks for any reviews or critics. I hope you are enjoying it so far!


End file.
